“Had he run away to sea?” the usual course of refractory lads at Portchester, but for so slight a creature only half recovered it did not seem probable.  It was more likely that he had gone home, and that Mrs. Woodford felt as somewhat a mortifying idea.  However, on looking into his chamber, as she sought her own, she beheld him in bed, with his face turned into the pillow, whether asleep or feigning slumber there was no knowing.

Later, she heard sounds that induced her to go and look at him.  He was starting, moaning, and babbling in his sleep.  But with morning all his old nature seemed to have returned.

There was a hedgehog in Anne’s bowl of milk, Mrs. Woodford’s poultry were cackling hysterically at an unfortunate kitten suspended from an apple tree and let down and drawn up among them.  The three-legged stool of the old waiting-woman ‘toppled down headlong’ as though by the hands of Puck, and even on Anne’s arms certain black and blue marks of nails were discovered, and when her mother examined her on them she only cried and begged not to be made to answer.

And while Dr. Woodford was dozing in his chair as usual after the noonday dinner Mrs. Woodford actually detected a hook suspended from a horsehair descending in the direction of his big horn spectacles, and quietly moving across to frustrate the attempt, she unearthed Peregrine on a chair angling from behind the window curtain.

She did not speak, but fixed her calm eyes on him with a look of sad, grave disappointment as she wound up the line.  In a few seconds the boy had thrown himself at her feet, rolling as if in pain, and sobbing out, “’Tis all of no use!  Let me alone.”

Nevertheless he obeyed the hushing gesture of her hand, and held his breath, as she led him out to the garden-seat, where they had spent so many happy quiet hours.  Then he flung himself down and repeated his exclamation, half piteous, half defiant.  “Leave me alone!  Leave me alone!  It has me!  It is all of no use.”

“What has you, my poor child?”

“The evil spirit.  You will have it that I’m not one of—­one of them—­so it must be as my father says, that I am possessed—­the evil spirit.  I was at peace with you—­so happy—­happier than ever I was before—­and now—­those boys.  It has me again—­I could not help it—­ I’ve even hurt her—­Mistress Anne.  Let me alone—­send me home—­to be scorned, and shunned, and brow-beaten—­and as bad as ever—­then at least she will be safe from me.”

All this came out between sobs such that Mrs. Woodford could not attempt to speak, but she kept her hand on him, and at last she said, when he could hear her:  “Every one of us has to fight with an evil spirit, and when we are not on our guard he is but too apt to take advantage of us.”

The boy rather sullenly repeated that it was of no use to fight against his.

“Indeed!  Nay.  Were you ever so much grieved before at having let him have the mastery?”